


Robin is Magic

by Periazhad



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Enemy to Caretaker, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Jason Todd Kills Joker (DCU), Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Tim Drake Needs Love, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Periazhad/pseuds/Periazhad
Summary: Tim meets Red Hood as a civilian, and it's both good and bad.Who knew Hood wouldn't look carefully at the picture of Tim Drake and realize Robin was the Tim he met with every week?
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 113
Kudos: 763
Collections: A Labyrinth of Fics, Red Hood vs Red Robin





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is not technically my first fic, but it's the first one I've worked this hard on, and I'm still not happy with it, but I'm told that's normal. I don't think I can get it any better without completely gutting it, so. Here it is!
> 
> I feel like I've learned a ton so hopefully I'll just get better if I keep trying.

Even though he was Robin, Tim wasn’t willing to give up photography. He loved being out at night in Gotham as a civilian, framing shots and seeing the city in a different way. It was hard to explain why he risked being in Crime Alley every week, even to himself. Taking risks as Robin was one thing; that meant helping people and saving lives. Photography was just for him and didn't benefit anyone but Tim. He felt almost ashamed over something so selfish, so he just didn’t think about it much. Once a week, when Bruce and Alfred thought he was doing his homework, he packed up his camera and put on his street clothes.

Tim learned early that nothing says “mug me!” like thousand dollar shoes. So he got a few outfits, shoes and coat included, that he bought from local shops. He could just go to other parts of Gotham, but Crime Alley was always raw, always real. There was no veneer, no matter how thin, over any of the ugliness. And the few moments of beauty he found were always so stark. So much of his life was pretending that he just wanted to photograph something real.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t smart about it. He carried pepper spray, he could fall back on basic self defense without outing himself as Robin, and by this point he knew the best routes to take to avoid trouble. So he was a little surprised, scurrying through an alley clutching his bag and pepper spray, to have Red Hood swing down right in front of him. He nearly pepper sprayed him, and wouldn’t  _ that  _ have been a bad idea.

“All right, kid, what’s in the bag?” The mechanized voice was deeply unsettling.

Tim squeaked. Later he’d deny it, but it was definitely a squeak.

“What?”

“The bag, kid. The gangs and dealers around here  _ know  _ not to use kids, so I needs to know who the fuck needs me to shoot ‘em.”

Tim had studied all the information they had about Red Hood. He was in line to basically own Crime Alley soon. He hadn’t been around for long, but he nearly controlled the drug trade, and kept the gangs in line. Everyone knew his rules not to sell to kids, not to use kids to move their product, and to never, ever try to traffic on a kid on Red Hood’s turf.

But there’s a difference between seeing the data on a screen, and witnessing it firsthand.

“Oh, it’s not—I’m not running for anyone.” He stumbled over his words. Hood is a confirmed killer, many times over, and he’s forbidden to interact with villains who have killed. Bruce was very clear on that.  _ A little late now _ , he thought guiltily.

Hood scoffed, a weird sound when mechanized through the helmet, and ripped the bag from Tim’s hand.

“Kid, I’ve  _ seen _ you, each week, running the same—“ Hood’s voice trailed off as he was confronted with a camera and some equipment.

Tim shuffled his feet nervously and absurdly felt guilty. “I just like taking pictures.”

Hood was still silent. Tim can’t help but fill in the silence. “I know it doesn’t actually help anyone or anything, but you can see the city in a different way through a camera, and...” he trailed off as Hood held out his bag back out to him.

“Can I see them?” Now it’s Tim’s turn to be silent. Hood sounds genuinely interested, but Tim has never shown anyone his photography before. He knows Hood could snatch the bag, this week or the next or another, but surely Hood isn’t  _ that _ interested. An anti-hero has a lot of work to do in Crime Alley.

(They did a unit on anti-heros a month ago in English class, and Tim thought he’d never find a better fit than Red Hood. Someone who protected women, children, innocents, but did it by violently murdering and taking over gangs and drug dealers and running them  _ himself _ ? Yeah, anti-hero.)

“Kid, I’m sure they’re not that bad.” Hood’s voice sounded faintly mocking.

“They’re  _ personal _ ,” he snapped out.

“You’re out in the most dangerous part of the city as night, taking pictures in public, and you’re telling me they’re personal?” Tim could feel the judgement in every mechanized word.

“Yes,” Tim bit back. There’s a long pause and Tim realized it’s very unsettling to not know where Hood is actually looking.

“Well, maybe I’ll just follow you and see what pictures you take, then.” Despite the childish words, the tone was dead serious.

Tim’s expression iced over, something he learned from his mom, and he stalked past Hood without a word. He could hear the footsteps behind him, and he scowled to himself. Taking pictures is the only thing he did for himself each week, but of course Gotham wouldn’t leave him alone.

He reached the end of the alley and peeked out carefully. Walking out without looking was how you get shot at, or any number of nasty things.

“I’m glad to see you have some common sense.” Hood’s tone was back to mocking.

Tim refused to look back, but hurried across the street and climbed up the fire escape. He thought he heard Hood make a noise of surprise, but wasn’t not sure. He doesn’t hear anyone climbing up behind him, but Hood was waiting for him at the top of the building.

Scaling buildings would certainly be easier as Robin, but running into Red Hood as Robin wasn’t something Tim wanted to imagine. Oddly enough, he was not frightened as a civilian. He  _ knew _ Hood didn’t hurt children and innocents, and a thirteen year old taking photos surely qualified.

He crept to the end of the roof and looked down at where some of the prostitutes were gathered under the light. He has gotten some heartbreaking photos of these women, but his favorites were the ones he captured when something brings them joy. Something about finding joy in some of the darkest parts of life brings warmth into Tim’s life. All alone in his house, he’d look at the photos and wonder when he’d start to find joy.

Hood saw what he’s looking at and made an incredulous noise. “You’re taking photos of  _ them _ ?” Tim debated trying to explain himself, but just opened up his bag. “No.” Voice flat, Hood reached out a hand and stopped him.

Tim can’t actually fight Hood, even as Robin. He just looked up at Hood, and waited.

“If you’re going to take their photos, you should at least meet them.” Tim was incredulous. “It’s the polite thing to do.” Hood yanked the bag from him and held out a hand. “Want to go down the easy way?”

Tim quickly weighed his options, and decided going along with this is the best choice he has right now. And maybe he’d get some intel on Hood to add to the file, if he could find a way to explain this to Bruce.

That night, Hood introduced him to the prostitutes, to the street kids, to some homeless men sleeping in an alley. He watched Tim narrowly throughout it all, but Tim absolutely has manners. Impeccable manners. And he’s had enough experience as Robin to know when to tone down his manners into something more relatable than his usual society manners.

Everyone on the street seemed comfortable with Hood. Tim made a mental note of all this, knowing it’s nothing he can put in Hood’s file, but important data nonetheless. There was a big difference between Hood saying he’s protecting the people and the street kids and people of Crime Alley, notoriously untrusting, actually believing in him. They don’t even trust Batman and Robin half the time.

One of the street kids looked absolutely starstruck when Hood walked into their warehouse. Tim hid a smile and supposed he might have looked that way, meeting Robin once upon a time. He’d gotten careless, too busy chasing after the perfect shot to realize he’d strayed into the wrong alley. He was 10, overconfident, and Robin  _ saved _ him. He can still remember feeling speechless, awed, and a little terrified Jason would realize he was taking photos of Batman and Robin. But Robin just got him to a safe street, on a bus to the address Tim made up, and then he was gone.

A year later Jason was _ really _ gone.

Tim started snapping photos, something to keep him grounded in the present. He wished, every week, he could make a difference. He thought he’d feel better as Robin, but he has come to realize Batman and Robin don’t really change anything in Crime Alley. When he comes into his trust fund, and the Drake fortune, he would try to make a change for the better here.

He was aware of Hood, chatting with each kid, asking and answering questions. It was a little unnerving not being able to see any part of his face, only a shiny, metallic helmet. Just in the past week, Bruce attributed three brutal murders to Hood. Yet there he was, checking in with street kids and telling them his favorite color.

When they walked on, Tim felt compelled to say, “That was nice of you, to talk to those kids.”

Hood shrugged. “I like kids.”

\---

At first, Tim thought maybe Hood had just needed to check that he really was just taking personal photos and not some kind of criminal surveillance. But Hood kept showing up, week after week, taking Tim around Crime Alley to meet the people he’d been photographing. He belatedly realized he was under the protection of Hood, that Hood was keeping him safe, walking him back to the bus more often than not. And then one week, there was no sign of Hood.

“Where  _ were _ you?” he demanded when Hood appeared the following week. Hood paused. Tim wished, again, he could just  _ see his face _ to get a sense of what Hood was feeling. Despite there being reports of Hood sightings in the cave files, Tim had been worrying all week

“I couldn’t make it.” Tim rolled his eyes, and considered pepper spraying him out of sheer exasperation. He had a helmet, he’d be fine. 

“That was obvious. Where _were_ you? Everyone looked for you, and the kids seemed worried!” When Hood laughed, Tim narrowed his eyes. 

“The kids? Kid, you  _ are _ a kid. You’re what, 11?”

“I’m almost 14!” Tim snapped back. “And if you must know, we were  _ all _ worried. It’s not like we don’t all know how dangerous your job is. One day, you  _ will _ just stop showing up and no one will ever see you again.” There was a pause, and Tim wished he could take it back. He didn’t like thinking about the realities of vigilante work, for anti-heros or heroes.

Hood just sighed. “Kid, have you ever had a chili dog?” 

_ What?  _ “What?” Tim blinked.

“Let’s go drop off the supplies, and get a chili dog.” Hood started walking and Tim scrambled to catch up.

_ What? _

Hood took him out for a chili dog. Tim, feeling increasingly confused, listened as Hood explained that his job  _ is _ dangerous, and he stopped by each week to keep Tim safe, since Tim is wandering  _ Crime Alley at night _ . Hood tells him it’s sweet for Tim to care, but Tim shouldn’t bother.

Tim knew full well caring about people  _ hurt _ and that getting attached just leads to pain. But he’s never been able to stop. He can’t even stop himself from starting to feel at home at Wayne Manor, as both Robin and Tim, although he knows his time is nearly up. Bruce and Dick are getting along; Bruce has stabilized, so there’s not much left for Tim to do. He went in to it knowing it was temporary, but he’s still caring too much. He imagines life would be easier if he could stop getting attached and stop caring.

He stammered out some of that to Hood and then Hood  _ ruffled his hair _ .

\---

After that, things were somehow more relaxed on their weekly walk through the most dangerous part of Gotham. Tim thought they might be becoming friends, if you can become friends with an expressionless red helmet.

Tim appreciated that Hood never suggests he stop taking this risk of coming out to Crime Alley. Hood  _ does  _ make delicate inquiries about Tim’s parents, but stopped when Tim said, “They’re not around much.” He probably thought Tim’s parents were working a lot, or perhaps something worse, not spending months at a time at digs around the world. But just knowing they’re not likely to be at home worrying about Tim seems to be all Hood needed to know.

One night, trying to think of an essay topic for Pride and Prejudice, he walked  _ into _ Hood.  _ So much for Robin training _ , he thought, embarrassed. And so much for his street awareness, he hadn’t been aware how much he was relying on Hood’s reputation until then.

He was even more embarrassed when Hood demanded to know why he was distracted, and then genuinely surprised when Hood said “'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” And then he suggested, “Just write about the irony. You’ve read it, right?” Tim mutely nodded and added  _ memorized classic literature _ to his mental file for Hood. “So write about the irony. Even that first line, it’s obviously the women who were in need of a husband. Can you write about the author and the irony of her writing a book about the importance of marriage while personally never caring to do so?”

Tim never really thought about it, and didn’t actually know that about Jane Austen. When he said as much, Hood exclaimed, “What did your teacher even  _ tell _ you about the book?” 

“She mostly used it to talk about the differences in our time periods, the different expectations, different rights for women, that kind of thing.” Tim can’t quite get over discussing Jane Austen and high school english class with a feared crime lord.

“That’s unbelievable,” Hood said. “That’s a dam- it’s a freaking  _ history  _ lesson, not an English lesson. And if you’re getting a history lesson, it should include the  _ author of the book _ . Did you talk about the  _ book _ at all?” Tim thought back, and at his hesitation Hood threw his hands in the air. “It’s no wonder no one likes classics if they don’t even  _ teach _ them!”

Tim failed to muffle a giggle as Hood said, “I’m going to fix this, right now. Stop giggling, education is important.” Tim just flat out laughed, but Hood ignored him in favor of educating him. What kind of crime lord was this? 

They talked every week about English class. Tim was sure his teacher was surprised with his increased participation in English class, although perhaps not pleased with some of his newfound opinions. 

“And if you ask me, kid,” Hood would say, although Tim rarely has to ask anymore, “It’s not even one of his best plays, they could have chosen almost  _ anything else _ . And it’s not hard to understand! Two teenagers were dumb enough to think they were in love, and made truly idiotic choices. And maybe your teacher should talk about how insane it is to give a bunch of teenagers  _ swords _ , who trains kids to fight and  _ encourages _ it?” The anger in his voice sounds so intense that Tim looks up in surprise, but Hood has moved on. “I know, I know, product of their time, but the entire premise of the play is just so ridiculous.” 

Tim was nodding along, his usual role, but couldn’t resist saying, “But Hood, Shakespeare tells us it’s better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all. Surely Juliet -”

“Did your teacher fucking tell you that?”  _ Bingo _ . Tim loved getting Hood riled up enough to forget to censor himself. “It wasn’t Shakespeare, it was Tennyson, and she needs to be fired if she’s telling you it was Shakespeare.” 

Tim just looked innocently at him and said, “I’m not sure where I heard that, Hood.

Hood’s sigh was audible, even through the helmet. “Thank fu- thank goodness. Now, some of his plays would be great to have a teacher explain it, King Lear or, wait, no. You know what they  _ should _ do, is have you Read Much Ado About Nothing and watch Joss Whedon’s version of it. That will give a real sense of what Shakespeare is like, not the ridiculous drivel that is ‘Oh Romeo O Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?’ Ridiculous!” Hood managed a simpering tone even through his helmet. “And Shakespeare was never meant to be just fuc - freaking  _ read _ , it was always meant to be  _ performed _ ! And your class would love a movie for a period or two.” 

Tim wondered if Hood ever considered being a teacher instead of an anti-hero. “A teacher? Kid, I do  _ not _ have the patience to be a teacher. I barely have the patience to run a crime empire, do you  _ know  _ how stupid people are?” Tim thought of the bodies in the morgue, a direct product of Hood’s lack of patience, and bit his tongue.

Tim found he was taking fewer pictures, and they were very different. He’s rarely looking down from a roof and he knew the names of a lot of his subjects. Hood chatted with them more than Tim, mostly to find out if anyone is harassing them so he can “take care of it.” Tim usually lurked in the background, wondering how exactly this happened to him, and looking for a good shot. But there was a lot of just Tim and Hood talking more and more each week, and sometimes going out for food.

Hood actually never asked to see the photos again, and Tim doesn’t quite know how he felt about it, but he thought about it every week. 

Tim decided nearly 14 is far too old to have his hair ruffled, and when he turned 14 he told Hood that now he’s  _ far _ too old for it. Hood just laughed and ruffled his hair.

—-

Hood showed up limping one week and Tim wouldn’t stop badgering him until he showed him the wound. Then Tim insisted on rebandaging it,  _ properly _ , scolding Hood for being careless. 

“Kid, I don’t know if you know this, but it’s a lot of work being a crime lord. I don’t always have  _ time. _ ”

“Hood, it will get  _ infected, _ ” Tim found himself saying, almost primly. “How can you be a crime lord if your arm rots off?” Hood gave him a sideways glance, but didn’t ask where he’d learned his extensive first aid. Tim was learning that Hood was good at not asking questions. 

Hood definitely had questions the first time Tim didn’t bring his camera, thinking he’d been mugged or it had broken. 

“No, Hood, it’s just not a good night for photography.” It was a long week, he was exhausted, but nothing would make him skip seeing Hood. And Hood must have read some of that on his face because Tim ended up spending half the night leaning on his shoulder, quietly passing the night.

Sometimes, Tim asked Hood about the life of a crime lord. What  _ does  _ a crime lord do all day? How goes it, overthrowing the holdout southside gang? He was careful to only mention things that are common knowledge on the street, and tried not to feel like he was pumping Hood for information. He wasn’t. It’s just that stories about Tim’s classes only take them so far, they’re not exactly going to be exchanging their personal backstories, and he was very curious.

The first time he casually asked Hood how his day went, they were sitting together on a roof and Tim was half asleep on his shoulder. When Hood went still, Tim woke up and started to flail a little, “No, I don’t mean - not what you did without the helmet on, I’m not trying to pry, I don’t care about your secret identity, I mean, I do care, but not like that, I don’t -” Hood stayed quiet and Tim really started to panic, “I meant, just, what you did for work, I mean, what  _ does  _ a crime lord do all day?” 

And Hood looked at him, pulled him back down while  _ laughing,  _ and said, “You’re one of a kind, kid.”

But Tim does want to know, so he tried to gently push Hood here and there. Hood would say things such as, “I had a little trouble with the gang on Tuesday.” Tim would know from Bruce’s report that he was pinned down in a shootout and nearly died. Or he’d say, “I had to clean house yesterday,” and Tim would think of the five bodies they found floating in the harbor. Bruce thought they weren’t loyal to Hood.

Once he asked Hood if he ever thought he’d get the dealers to stop selling to kids. “I don’t know, kid, but until they stop, I’ll be there enforcing my rules.” Enforcing his rules means crime scene photos Bruce would try to hide from Tim. He was sending messages, as loudly as he could, and Tim doesn’t have a lot of sympathy for the dealers and traffickers caught in his ire. It wasn’t a surprise, anymore.

Maybe that’s why Batman hasn’t really gone after Hood. Most villains are, well, villainous. They try to hurt civilians, like Scarecrow or Joker, or damage or take over public and private property, like Ivy. Even when Batman and Robin go after a gang, it’s usually for child trafficking, weapons smuggling, or selling laced, deadly drugs. Something that gets civilians caught in the crossfire. Sometimes, civilians are getting caught in literal crossfire and taking down one gang is the only way to stop the war. There’s no record of Hood hurting a single civilian and crime rates are actually dropping in Crime Alley. 

Of course, Batman still considered Hood a villain. He kills, breaking the one rule Batman holds above all else. And he’s literally a crime lord. But, Tim thought, he’s a  _ nice _ crime lord. The nicest Tim has met, so far. Definitely an anti-hero.

—-

Eventually, Tim asked Hood why Crime Alley, why kids, why does he  _ do _ this? And Hood just looked at him, with that helmet making it impossible to read him, and said, “Because it needs doing, kid, and no one else was. You see Batman down in here, getting his hands dirty, making it safer for anyone? Batman isn’t for the poor folks, he’s given up on everyone down in here. You can’t fix corruption from a golden pedestal.” 

Tim knew he means that sometimes you need to fix things by killing people. Tim doesn’t know if that’s true, but Hood has certainly made a positive change here where both Bruce and Batman have failed. “Still.” Tim said, because it wasn’t quite what he meant to have asked. “Not just anyone can do this, or surely someone would have done this before. You’ve had training. And then you came  _ here _ .” And Tim knew that had to be true. He’d been in gymnastics and martial arts classes since he figured out Robin was Dick Grayson and Batman was Bruce Wayne and started to think if  _ Bruce Wayne _ could make a difference, maybe he could do so.

Those years of classes, though, were nothing compared to the training Batman and Nightwing put him through. Tim knew they wanted to train him for longer, but he needed to be out, helping. And the longer he was Robin, the stronger and better he got, and the more freedom Batman gave him to help. So Hood trained somewhere, with someone, and then chose to come to Crime Alley.

On the street, Hood actually stopped and turned to Tim and bent down to his level. “Kid, you can’t do what I do. Don’t even think about it. Yeah, I’ve had training, and  _ no one _ should have to go through it. It’s not all fun and looking cool, it’s hard and dangerous work. You try to be like me, you’ll get killed.” 

Tim looked back at him and hoped his face wasn’t saying  _ too late, I’m Robin! _ Or something equally incriminating. He said quietly, “I know what you do is dangerous.” Hood was still looking at him and Tim just wanted to go back to having fun. He looked forward to these nights all week, saved up school stories to tell him and appreciated Hood trying to talk about his week in a way he thinks is appropriate for a 14 year old to hear. “Don’t forget, Hood, I’ve patched you up.”

The tension breaks a little and Hood said, “Yeah, I won’t forget that. A kid giving me excellent wound care isn’t something I get every day.” He turned away and they walked on together.

\---

Outside of his weekly, unsupervised visits to Crime Alley, Tim was busy with Robin training, patrol, and working with the Titans. Dick encouraged him to join, and Tim thought he might actually be enjoying it.

It was getting harder to make sure he's home and available every week, but in quiet moments he admitted he wouldn’t give it up because then he wouldn’t see Hood anymore. He knows he's pathetic, he knows he isn't really gathering intel, he’s not even really taking photos anymore, he just likes spending time with Hood. Hood makes him laugh. Hood has definitely improved his English grade. He trusts Hood and, just like he does for everyone in Crime Alley, Hood makes him feel safe. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Tower is taller than any other building nearby. Tim can’t be the only one who thinks making it in the shape of a T, deliberately drawing enemy fire and then expecting the team to  _ live there _ , is a terrible idea. As paranoid as Bruce is, Tim misses the anonymity of the Batcave. Feeling so exposed in the Tower, on an island, is only manageable because of the extensive alarm systems. 

It's been a damn long week, one mission after the other, and Tim is looking forward to his “homework” night when the comms go out. He sighs. He just wants to leave the Tower, go home, change out of his costume, and see Hood. 

So it's a bit of shock to turn towards the doorway to head to the backup communications room, and see Hood standing there. In the Tower.

Tim blinks at him, feeling rather stupid. “Hood?” His leather jacket, reinforced jeans, and steel toed boots stand out in the starkness of the command center. They soften the hallway walls with photos and art throughout the Tower; Tim even snuck up a few of his photos. But “no distractions in the command room” is a standing order.

“Replacement.” Tim flinches. Hood never sounds that cold, and Tim has spent a lot of time learning to pick out his feelings through the helmet.

Tim tries to force his tired brain to kick on. Hood is angry. And somehow in the Tower. “What are you doing here?”  _ Did I lose a day? Am I late?  _ But no, Hood doesn't know that he's Robin.

Oh no. 

This isn't _ his  _ Hood, the cheerful anti-hero who rescues kids and lectures him on Shakespeare. This is the villain who murders every week without any sign of remorse, who's taking down Black Mask single-handedly. He's broken into the Tower, he's pissed, and he's here for Robin.  _ Oh no _ .

Tim's mind catches up a moment too late, as Hood says, “I wanted to see what makes you so special,” and shoots Tim in the leg.

Tim isn't Robin for nothing and he rolls to the side and darts behind the command center. He lets the shock of physical pain wash over and through, pushing it aside like he's been taught. But his mind won't stop saying,  _ that's Hood! He's our friend!  _ and the pain of that betrayal fills his blood with ice.

Hood calls out in a sing-song, “Replacement, hiding isn't going to help.”  _ No,  _ Tim thinks,  _ but do you have a better option? _ He listens as Hood walks into the room and starts to walk around the console. He needs to get out of this room, try to reach another Titan, and get communication back online.

“Your friends aren't coming. I wanted this just to be a special meeting between us.” The ice in his veins grows even colder.  _ What did Hood do? _ “I had to see for myself how this Robin flies.”

Tim can hear the vicious satisfaction in his tone. He usually only heard this particular tone when Hood told him how he dealt with people breaking his rules around kids. Hood was always careful about what exactly he told Tim, because Tim was a kid and apparently needed protection from the harsh realities. Hood certainly isn't protecting him now.

As Hood comes around one side, Tim throws himself around the other and darts out of the room. His leg buckles when he’s in the hallway, and he gasps in pain and reaches out to the wall for support. 

And then Hood is there. He is so  _ fast _ . Tim just has a moment before he grabs Tim's wrist, twists, and  _ snaps _ it. 

Tim refuses to be terrified. He refuses to think about this being _ Hood _ . Hood is bigger, stronger, with more weapons, but he is  _ Robin  _ and Robin is magic. He doesn’t think he can win in a straight fight, especially with an injured leg and broken wrist, but this is his Tower and he just needs to outmaneuver Hood. 

While Tim is planning, he’s pulling his arm back from Hood, ignoring the screaming from his wrist. Before he can turn to run, Hood grabs his throat, slams him into the wall and says, “It’s not nice to leave when you’re in the middle of a fucking conversation.” If Tim could respond, he'd tell him it's not nice to shoot people, but he can barely breathe. His good hand is trying to pull Hood’s hands off his throat, and his feet are scrambling as Hood slowly lifts him. Tim refuses to be afraid.

_ Robin is magic.  _

Hood drops one hand and brings it back up with a knife. Tim freezes, eyes locked on the knife. “Oh, do I have your attention now?” Tim can’t make himself look away from the knife as it gets closer and closer to his face. He’s not even trying to breathe. Hood lays the flat edge of the knife on his cheek, the tip near his eye. Tim looks into that expressionless helmet and feels a small, tender part of him curl up and die. This isn’t his Hood.

Hood lets go of his throat altogether but Tim still isn’t breathing, isn’t moving. Hood moves the knife a fraction and Tim’s eyes slip closed. 

He can’t believe he thought Hood was his friend, he can’t believe he was stupid enough to care about a  _ murderer _ , Bruce had rules for a  _ reason,  _ ignoring them was  _ stupid _ and being 14 doesn’t mean you know better. Bruce has been doing this longer than Tim had been  _ alive _ , Tim knew it was  _ stupid _ to care about people,  _ Hood _ told him it was stupid, but Tim  _ was  _ stupid, and if Tim hadn’t gone out by himself and made a friend, he wouldn’t be so frozen and horrified, he could  _ fight _ or do _ something _ and Hood  _ isn’t _ his friend and  _ Robin is magic _ .

“Oh, Replacement, crying already?” Tim hadn’t even realized he was crying. He draws in a shallow breath, and he  _ hurts _ , and in that moment Hood drops the knife to stab him in the side and says, “Well, why don’t you show me what Robin can do?”

Tim just—Tim can’t fight him. It was so stupid to get involved with a villain, calling him an anti-hero was just lying to himself and look where it got him.

_ Robin is magic _ .

Tim twists away and runs, heading to the main communications room, leaving a trail of blood and pain in his wake. He staggers off balance on the first turn, and Hood is there,  _ again _ , kicking out with steel toed boots and Tim feels and hears his ankle snap. He chokes off a cry, moves to run away and falls. When he tries to catch himself, he uses the broken wrist. He does cry out then, and twists to fall on his side.

He goes to pull himself up, but Hood is there kicking him again and that’s definitely a broken rib. Hood drags Tim up by his throat, smashes his helmet into Tim’s face, and Tim’s nose breaks.  _ Why is he doing this _ , Tim thinks, unwilling to admit he’s heartbroken and confused and terrified.

Hood steps back and Tim wavers, favoring his broken ankle, looking up at Hood. 

_ Robin is magic. _

“Why—” Tim coughs, realizes his throat is definitely bruised. “Why are you doing this? You don’t hurt the innocent.” His voice sounds nasally and it hurts to talk, but he has to  _ know _ what he or Bruce did to set Hood after them. 

Hood stills and then snarls, “You don’t fucking qualify, Replacement.” Tim looks hopelessly up at him, not understanding, but Hood makes a shooing motion. “Go on, then, run away, if that’s all you’ve got.” 

What else is he supposed to do? He limps down the hallway, leaning on the wall with his unbroken hand. He sobs out harsh breaths through his mouth, his nose a painful, bleeding wreck. He glances back to see a bloody trail stark on the floor and walls. And Hood, slowly following.

Tim makes it through another turn, and the communications room is only two doors away. He doubts he’ll be allowed to get in the room, let alone lock the door and try to send out a message.

_ Robin is magic _ . 

He just needs to figure out what to do. There has to be something. Hood keeps calling him Replacement. Replacement for what, Bruce? Did he want Batman and settled for Robin? But if he could break into the Tower, if he knew Robin would be here, surely he would have been able to find Batman.

One more door to go. 

Robin did replace Nightwing in the Titans, although it was more that the older Titans left to make room for the younger generation to stretch their superhero wings with support and mentors close at hand. But again, if he wanted Nightwing, Dick wasn’t hard to find in Bludhaven. 

“You know, Replacement, he’s not coming.” Hood’s voice echoed down the hallway, sounding almost friendly. Like he’s being helpful. “Bruce never shows up when he’s really needed.” Tim stops breathing again.  _ He knows who Batman is.  _

A terrible feeling washes over him.  _ Does that mean he knows I’m Tim? The Tim he sees every week? _ Tim can’t believe that. Last week they had chili dogs again and Hood helped him practice for his class reading of Shakespeare, and they both agreed a bunch of teenagers reading Shakespeare out loud was a terrible way to teach a play. In fact, Hood had been so outraged Tim was secretly worried his English teacher was going to get a special, nighttime visitor, and was grateful when the lesson plan didn’t change. 

He was almost at the door when Hood caught up to him. Tim just looks up at him, resigned. ”Bruce really isn’t a great dad, Replacement.” 

“He’s not my dad,” Tim responds automatically, coughing again. Hood seems to pause, and Tim says, “I have a mom and dad.”  _ For what it’s worth _ , he silently added. He’s suddenly grateful they’re not due back for three months, because it’s going to be hard to explain these injuries. Assuming he survives.

_ Robin is magic _ .

“So you think you’re good enough to be Robin, but too good to be his son. Although, you don't seem to be doing very well being Robin.” His mechanized voice sounds pleased about it all. Tim wishes he hadn't spent enough time with Hood to recognize pleasure in his voice, to know that Hood is  _ enjoying _ this. “It’s for the best Bruce never adopted you. You’d be such a disappointment.” Tim knows it’s true, knows he’s always a disappointment, but hearing it said by someone he thought was a friend, hearing it with such malice, makes it sting more than usual.

Tim hurts, and he finally admits he is terrified. He would be dead if Hood wanted it and he isn’t dead, so Hood is hurting him on purpose and Tim doesn’t want it anymore. He wants his friend back, he wants to feel safe, he wants to be  _ saved _ . He realizes he  _ does _ want Bruce to show up, but Hood is right, Bruce isn’t coming. He wonders if it would help if he took off his mask, if maybe Hood doesn’t realize it’s him. But if Hood does know it’s him and doesn’t care, Tim isn’t sure he can handle it. The mask stays on. 

He takes a wavering step towards the communications door, not knowing what else to do, and Hood reaches for him. Tim flinches back and says, “Please.” He doesn’t mean to, he knows Hood doesn’t care about him and seems to be enjoying this, but Tim is only 14 and he’s scared and hurting and he doesn’t want to die or be hurt anymore. Especially not by Hood. 

_ Robin is magic _ .

Robin might be magic, but Tim’s never thought he’s made a good Robin. He's nothing compared to the other Robins. This is just further proof he doesn’t deserve it. He hasn’t been able to fight back at all _,_ too shocked by someone he cared for and trusted hurting him to even defend himself. _Bruce is going to be disappointed. I’m probably going to get fired. I deserve to get fired_. 

Hood grabs him by the shoulders and slams him up against the wall. It hurts, and Tim can’t look at him anymore. He closes his eyes and can feel himself crying and can’t stop, even though crying hurts his nose and ribs even more.

_ Robin is magic _ .

“Begging already, Replacement?” Tim feels a line of fire down his arm and the shock of pain has him opening his eyes. Hood has let go of his shoulder in favor of drawing another knife, has slashed it down his arm.

_ Please, just stop _ .

But Hood brings the knife back, and Tim knows the terror he feels must be showing on his face. Hood can do anything to him, is bringing the knife back down and it’s going to hurt and keep hurting, and Tim doesn’t understand, he thought Hood wasn’t like this. His training kicks in, he tries to escape, but it’s easy for Hood to pin him to the wall and stab him through his left hand.

Tim screams and Hood  _ laughs _ and says, “Fuck, this is better than I thought.” 

Tim feels himself break. He’s been taught how to manage fear and physical pain, but no one trained him for the pain of betrayal. He can’t push it aside, he can’t forget about it, he can’t process that Hood is here, hurting him, torturing him. And Tim doesn’t even know  _ why _ .

Tim looks at him, and in a broken voice he can’t believe belongs to himself he says, “I thought you didn’t hurt kids.” He knows he’s not really a kid, he’s Robin, but to Hood he’s always been a kid and he thought he was  _ safe _ , even if Hood ran into Robin

Hood laughs again and says, “I fucking told you, Replacement, you don’t count. You’re not a kid, you’re a bird, and I’m here to clip your damn wings.” Tim can hear the glee in his mechanized voice, and wishes he could go numb to the pain. Wishes it didn’t keep getting worse with everything Hood says and does.

Hood grabs him by the throat and tightens his hands around Tim’s neck, until Tim can’t breathe. He starts to thrash, not even feeling how much it hurts to do so, desperate to get oxygen. As his vision dims, he hopes that when he wakes up it will have all been a bad dream. The last thing he sees is that horrible, expressionless helmet.

_ Robin is magic _ .

—-

Tim wakes up in a fog. He remembers being in Titan’s Tower, and then...something bad happened. Something horrible. His brain shies away from remembering and he slips back down without ever opening his eyes.

When he wakes next, Bruce is sitting beside his bed, working on a tablet. He sets it aside and says, “How are you feeling, Tim?” Tim doesn’t feel much of anything, thankfully, and he says something to that effect. Bruce smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Tim knows he’s going to be fired.

After going over all his injuries, Bruce wants to know if Tim has any idea why Red Hood attacked him. When Tim learns Red Hood somehow had the codes to get into the Tower, he feels sick. If Hood can do that, can he get into the Cave? Is Tim going to be safe from him anywhere?

Before Tim can settle into his panic, Bruce is saying that all JLA affiliated buildings are changing access codes and he changed the Cave and Manor access codes immediately. Tim only feels a little better. He can still hear Hood laughing at him. He still feels sick with betrayal. Hiding that betrayal from Bruce is almost more than Tim can manage. He should just tell Bruce, tell him everything.

Then Bruce informs Tim that he’s not only benched, but he’s staying in the Manor for safety. Tim supposes he’ll be fired when he’s healthier and he can go home. Bruce is a protector, even when a person is a complete failure like Tim. He hates to be a bother and tries to get Bruce to know that Tim will be just fine at home, but Bruce won’t hear of it.

So Tim subsides, and gets brought upstairs into the room set aside for his use.

\---

He spends a lot of time trying to make sense of his Hood versus the Hood who assaulted him in the Tower. He reads and rereads the files they have on Hood, comparing them with his mental file on Hood. When Alfred takes the files away he starts to make his own.

It doesn’t make sense. It was such a carefully calculated attack, but why Robin? Why then? 

In his darkest moments, he wonders if Hood does actually know Tim is Robin. If, when he figured out Bruce, he then found out Tim was lying to him the whole time. If Hood thought Tim was just using him for information, that could explain his anger. But why go after him in the Tower? Tim was heading out to Crime Alley in just a few hours. Hood could easily have gotten to him there.

He lays awake at night and he tells himself it’s to solve this case, but he knows it’s because he doesn’t want to see Hood break him in his dreams every night.

Dick comes by and tells Tim not to worry, because he’s staying in Gotham until they hunt Red Hood down and he'll be safe soon. He’s cheerful and kind and says all the right things. They watch a movie together and Dick offers to try to talk Bruce into letting the Titans visit. Tim doesn’t want any visitors. What’s the point, when he won’t be Robin soon? Dick must not realize that, but Tim isn’t going to tell him.

Tim doesn't feel safe. He worries. He knows Batman and Nightwing won't let Hood stay in Gotham after this, but what about Crime Alley? Is Tim's personal safety worth more than the safety of all those people? He doesn't think so, but he can’t find a way to make Bruce and Dick see that. 

He misses the city at night, and wonders if he’ll ever be able to go out again. He can’t lose photography  _ and  _ Robin, surely he can just pick a different day and a different place to photograph. He knows he can’t see Hood, not with the nightmares twisting through him still. And not when Hood might know he was Robin.

Tim tries very hard not to think how often he’d been going out without his camera and what that meant.

The guilt of not telling the whole truth eats away at him. Bruce already knows he's a failure, he will fire him soon; he hadn’t even asked why Tim didn’t do better at the Tower, didn’t fight back. Tim can't bring himself to make it worse. 

So he practices walking when he’s left alone, using the crutches left by Dick that are, “ _ only _ if you can’t call one of us and need to use the bathroom.” It’s a sweet idea, but Dick should have known better.

His camera is not here, he realizes. He can’t ask someone to get it for him, it would open up everything he’s been trying to hide. He decided to go without it, to just look around for new places to photograph. Deep down he recognizes that he’s probably just going out to see Hood, but he buries that part of him deep so he never has to think about it again. Hood is a villain, Hood is cruel, Hood isn’t his friend.

He brings a panic button with him. He can’t admit to himself why, usually he’s scrupulous about not being tracked. But he straps the watch around his wrist and just hopes Bruce doesn’t notice he’s gone, doesn’t check the tracker while Tim is out.

\---

He’s  _ exhausted _ by the time he makes it on the bus. He had no idea he could get this tired this quickly.  _ Another reason I’m not fit to be Robin, no wonder they’re going to fire me.  _ He half-dozes on the bus, then limps off at a new stop. His hand aches, the stab wound not fully healed.

He’s gone two blocks when something swings down in front of him. Tim has just a moment to think without surprise  _ I really should have expected this _ , because there’s that expressionless helmet in front of him and he starts to panic. Robin training and deep, measured breaths can’t come close to touching this panic.

He stumbles backwards, but of course panic doesn’t care that he’s been using crutches, so he tries to stand on his ankle, yelps at the pain, and falls. Large hands catch him and a mechanized voice is saying something, but all Tim hears is  _ I’m here to clip your damn wings.  _ And he can feel the knife on his face, sliding into his side, he can feel his nose breaking, again, he can’t  _ breathe _ , Robin is magic, but he’s not Robin, he’s going to be fired, only apparently Hood is going to hurt him again and kill him before he can even  _ be _ fired, he can’t believe he was stupid enough to go out to Crime Alley at night, injured, with Red Hood out for his blood, and he realizes he’s hyperventilating when black spots fill his vision, he’s going to pass out, without Hood even  _ doing _ anything, because Tim is just that pathetic, and then—darkness.

\---

Tim wakes up feeling sore and has no idea where he is. He quickly glances around, realizes he’s in a bed in a rundown apartment and he’s alone. He hears a noise from outside the door and it all rushes back in. Sneaking out, the alley, Hood, the panic attack.

Immediately, he pushes his panic button and panics. 

Before he can really settle into his panic, Hood pops his head around the corner. “Oh good, you’re awake.” He stays in the doorway, holding a glass of water, and Tim realizes he is trying to not scare Tim any more.

_ Too late for that _ .

Tim just looks back at him and focuses on keeping his breathing slow and steady, despite his rapid heart rate.

“Kid…” Hood hesitates, then says, “Tim, I want you to tell me who hurt you.”

_ What?  _ “What?” Tim says flatly.  _ What? _

There’s a pause, while Tim stares incredulously at Hood. When the helmet starts to bring up images Tim would rather not think about, he looks away. Hood takes it for refusal.

“I’m not gonna believe any of your excuses. You didn’t get  _ stab wounds _ falling down the stairs or tripping.” Oh, so he examined Tim. While Tim was helpless and unconscious, Hood was  _ touching _ him and  _ looking under his bandages _ . And now he wants to know who hurt him.

Tim feels hysteria rising up rising up and viciously pushes it down. He pulls himself up to a sitting position.

“Tim, if you tell me who hurt you, I can make sure they never hurt you or anyone else again.”  _ I didn’t think you were the type for suicide, Hood _ . Nervous giggles are building. This is insane. Tim literally cannot believe he’s here, with his almost-murder wanting to keep him safe. “You know how I feel about people who hurt kids.”

Tim bursts out into laughter. He can’t stop. He’s laughing and gasping and it hurts his ribs and his healing nose and he’s starting to sob, too.

Hood rushes into the room and sets the glass down, demanding, “Were you exposed to a toxin? Tell me what it is and I can get you the antitoxin.” Tim finds that funnier than ever as Hood hovers over him. He clearly wants to help but doesn’t want to make it worse.

Tim has nothing left to lose. He tries to take a deep breath, stops laughing, chokes down a sob, and squeezes out, “Will you take off the helmet?”

Every time he sees it, he's remembering. Hood is still, and then he lifts his hands. Tim hears a click, a release hiss of air, and then the helmet is off. Tim freezes, hysteria forgotten. He notices messy black hair with a distinctive white streak,  _ a helmet makes good sense for anonymity, _ but Hood has a domino on, and Tim swallows as he looks into the white lenses. Then Hood tilts his head, fiddles with the edge of his domino, and Tim is looking into his eyes, his  _ real _ eyes. They’re a vivid teal, and full of concern.

“Hey, Tim.” Hood’s voice is so warm, and his eyes are so concerned, that Tim bursts into tears and reaches for Hood. He knows it’s stupid and childish, but he’s been so scared and hurt and Hood was the only person who seemed to like Tim for _Tim_ , and then Hood attacked Tim-as-Robin, and Tim can’t think about that, he just wants to feel safe, and cared for, not from obligation because he got hurt wearing the Robin colors, but because someone cares about _him,_ just for _once_ , that surely isn’t too much -

And Hood, Hood is sitting on the bed, putting his arms around Tim, holding him close, rubbing his back, telling him he's safe now and he'll make sure he's never hurt again. Tim  _ believes, _ he has to believe, he can’t keep being this terrified and exhausted, and he cries and cries until his body feels drained and spent and relaxed for the first time since he turned around and saw Hood in the tower. He feels  _ safe _ .

They sit there for a moment, Hood still soothingly rubbing his back and Tim valiantly not thinking about anything other than how nice it feels.

Hood shatters the moment with a quiet and heartfelt, “You have to tell me, Tim, so I can help you.” Tim stiffens immediately and although Hood has to feel it, he doesn’t draw away.

Tim spares a small thought for how often Hood has held traumatized, terrified children and promised to kill their abusers. He thinks it must be quite often, for how good Hood is at it.

“I—I can’t tell you.” And Tim  _ can’t _ , he feels sick to his stomach at the thought of encouraging those hands to twist and break and _ hurt _ . His breathing picks up and he feels his heart start to race.

And then Hood hugs him and says, “Please, please tell me.” And he sounds so earnest but Tim _ can’t _ tell, but can’t _ not  _ tell _ ,  _ and he bursts out, “It’s all _ your _ fault!”

Now it’s Hood’s turn to stiffen. When Tim tries to pull away, Hood’s hands tighten, and Tim panics, pulling harder. But Hood makes a low soothing sound, loosens his grip to rub his back again, and says, “Was it one of the waterfront gangs? They’ve been  _ looking _ for some way to get at me, and they mighta seen us together. I’m so sorry, Tim. I didn’t think anyone had seen us together, I should have known you might be in danger.”

Hood sounds so kind and caring and distraught that he might have gotten Tim hurt.

Tim’s stomach is in knots. His body feels hot and cold and he realizes he’s trembling. He’s going to tell Hood he’s Robin, he realizes, and he’s probably going to die. He can’t seem to make himself lie, although Hood handed him the perfect opportunity, and he knows Hood won’t let him go until he knows who to go after. Tim just wants another minute here, held by someone who cares. Just another moment. 

So, of course, Batman bursts through a window and growls, “Get your hands off of him.”

Hood and Tim freeze together, and Tim stammers, panicking in a different way, “B, this isn’t—I’m fine, it’s fine.” He raises his head to look at Batman, to try to communicate he’s fine. He'd actually forgotten he pushed the panic button. 

And of course, Bruce is the World’s Greatest Detective, he has to see the red helmet by the glass of water on the nightstand. He sees Tim in the arms of the man who nearly killed him three weeks ago, after he triggered his panic button. When he’s not even supposed to be out of bed, let alone out of the Manor, let alone  _ in Crime Alley _ . Nothing about this is going to be fine.

Hood, leaving his head bent over Tim’s, slowly lifts a hand under Batman’s watchful eye, and taps the side of his domino. When he raises his head, Tim can see the white lenses are back.

“Let go of him.” Batman’s voice is the harshest Tim has ever heard it and Tim flinches a little, despite himself.Hood slowly lets go of Tim, carefully not to jar his injuries and makes sure he’s stable still sitting up on the bed.

As he slides out of the bed, Hood grabs the helmet and puts it back on. “Well, I didn’t think you’d find me like this.” Tim aches to hear that voice so angry when he’d been so tender just a moment before.  _ Why does Hood hate us so much? _ No one has been able to figure that out. Hood puts his helmet back on and turns to fully face Batman, Tim on the bed between them.

“You didn’t think I’d come for him?” Batman demands. Tim realizes Bruce assumes Hood knows Tim is Robin, maybe even kidnapped Tim out of the manor. It would make more sense than Hood not knowing, more sense than Tim coming out into Crime Alley at night, as a civilian, still injured.

“Uh, B?” Tim says, quietly. Neither of them turn to him. Although he can’t see where Hood is looking thanks to that terrifying helmet, he’s sure they are studying each other, watching for a sudden movement, “He doesn’t know.”

There’s a silence while they both process that statement and then Hood demands. “Tim, what don’t I know?” The mechanized voice that haunts Tim’s dreams sounds so furious that Tim flinches _. I ruin everything. _

But he swallows and says, “You wanted to know who hurt me, so you could make sure it never happened again?” He wants Batman to know what's going and Batman’s armor creaks. That’s practically an exclamation of surprise for him. 

Hood just nods. “Yep.”

Tim opens his mouth, and then closes it. He looks mutely at Hood, and then at Batman. He can’t just  _ say _ it, he can’t  _ ruin _ this, he just—he  _ can’t _ . He looks down at the bed, down at his leg in a cast and his wrist in a cast. He looks at his hand still wrapped in bandages, tender from the crutches he shouldn’t have been using, and he feels the soreness in his side and face. And despite all that, he wants to  _ protect _ Hood. He thinks he’s going to throw up.

Batman feels no protective urge. “You did this, Hood, when you attacked him in the Tower three weeks ago.”

Hood flinches, an actual full-body flinch. Tim sees it out of the corner of his eye. He can’t make himself look up. But he can finally say, “I’m Robin, Hood.” He feels the hysterical laughter rising up at his phrasing, calling himself  _ Robin Hood _ , but then remembers one evening listening to Hood tell him about his favorite adaptations, and feels sick again. His stomach is still twisted up in knots. He is trembling so much they both must see it, but he feels a sense of relief now that everyone knows.

He knows Batman won’t let Hood hurt him again, that’s why he pushed the stupid panic button. But more than being attacked again, he's worried he's losing his only friend, which is _stupid_ , since Hood _almost killed him,_ and Tim had a panic attack just from _seeing_ him, but Hood took off his helmet and _held_ him when he cried, which no one has _ever_ done. 

Now that Hood knows he's Robin, he's sure it's all over. Even though he's not going to be Robin for much longer. And it was never a real friendship, since Tim couldn't be honest with him and since Tim was just pretending Hood was an anti-hero. Suddenly, he feels like crying again. 

He doesn’t want Hood or Batman to get in a fight, not now, not when Hood was trying to help, so he quietly asks, “Will you take me back now, B?”

Hood says, “Wait.” Even mechanized, his voice sounds blank, no sign of the anger. “You’re Robin?” 

Tim flinches again but says, “Yes.” He still can't look at Hood.

“You know who I am but you didn’t figure out who Robin is?” Batman sounds almost appalled. “That’s sloppy work, Hood.” 

“No.” Hood says immediately. “I knew Robin was Tim Drake, I just didn’t—” Hood trails off. Tim looks up finally, but shudders at the sight of the helmet and turns away.

“B, let’s just go.” Tim doesn't want to start crying again, not in front of Batman or Hood. He’s feeling so empty, so lost, bruised and heartsick. He just wants to go before it gets worse. “Please.”

He starts to swing his legs over the side of the bed, planning to hop over there if that's what it takes, and Hood says, “What do you think you're  _ doing?” _ at the same time Batman says, “Stop, Tim.” 

There's a pause while Tim settles back onto the bed and Hood says quietly, “I didn't know it was you, Tim.”

Tim doesn’t look at him, but quietly says, “I know. It pretty clear when you were offering to kill yourself.” 

There's a moment and then Hood is angry again. “Why would you put another fucking _ kid _ in a mask, B? One dead Robin wasn't enough? When will you ever  _ learn?”  _ And he steps forward with murder in every line of his body and Tim is terrified again. Hood is focusing on Batman, but this is the man that could have  _ killed _ him, and he makes an involuntary noise.

Suddenly, Batman is between Hood and Tim, growling “You'll  _ never _ touch him again.” But Hood is looking at Tim with something like regret in his body, stepping back, wearily saying, “Just take the kid home, old man.” 

Tim panics, watching Hood leave, but doesn’t know what to do. And then Hood is gone and it’s just Tim and Batman. Batman bends down, scoops him up, and Tim closes his eyes.  _ It's really over _ .


	3. Chapter 3

Of course, it wasn't really over. Back at the Cave, sitting in medbay while Alfred checked him over, Tim quietly explained about going out to take photos every week. He still can’t quite bring himself to tell Bruce about the years spent taking photos of Batman and Robin, so he understands how his reasoning for sneaking out while still injured falls a little flat. Frankly, even with all the information, there’s not a good excuse.

“Tim,” Bruce said, sternly. “Going out into Crime Alley alone is an unacceptable risk.”

Tim dropped his head and fiddled with the medbay sheets. _I’ve been going out since I was nine and I was safe._ _Even Hood didn’t hurt_ me _, just Robin._ He’s not sure what to say, he’s not sure it even matters. He muttered, “I’m sorry,” and hoped it was enough.

Bruce rubbed a hand across his face and looked so tired that Tim felt guilty and small. He should have told Bruce earlier, even before he met Hood, but absolutely when he met Hood and started hanging out with a known, wanted, murdering criminal. And he definitely should not have gone back out and risked contact with said criminal when they didn’t even know why Hood left Tim alive.

“Master Timothy, although nothing has happened when you’ve gone into Crime Alley before, I am sure you realize it’s not safe  _ now _ .” Alfred looked up from checking his ankle to give him a reproving glance, but finished, “I personally would love to see the photos you take. I’m sure we can find a way for you to continue to do so in a safe manner. Perhaps in daylight, once this Red Hood is gone.” Tim flushed, always unsure what to do with the care Alfred showed him, and even more uncomfortable knowing he’s about to be fired.

Alfred patted him gently. “Other than some soreness in your hand from prolonged usage, you look to be still healing on schedule. I’ll pop up and warm up some food for all of us.” 

“Thanks, Alfred.” He was hungry and exhausted, looking forward to food and bed. But now he was alone with Bruce, who still loomed disapprovingly. Tim was horrified to feel his eyes stinging. Hadn’t he cried enough tonight? He can’t look up, he can’t say anything.

When Tim stayed silent, Bruce pressed, “When did you meet Hood, Tim? You know he’s a known murderer and not a Rogue I want you dealing with, let alone having contact with as a  _ civilian _ .” Tim knew it, he’d known it the first time he met Hood, but he still went back.

How could he explain to Bruce? Saying he was trying to get intel was an excuse that would only go so far, but it was all he had.

“He found me, Bruce, one night. He thought I was running drugs; he’d seen me going the same route every week. And when he saw it was just a camera, he followed me. He was outraged I was taking pictures of people from the rooftops and brought me down and introduced me to them.” Tim smothers a smile when he remembers Hood’s attempt at the first introduction, only to realize he didn’t know Tim’s name. “He just kept showing up, week after week, and I knew we didn’t have much on him and I thought it was a good idea to get more intel in case we needed to go after him.” Tim swallowed and said, “And it wasn’t a problem, I mean, he didn’t attack  _ me _ , he went after Robin.” His throat was unaccountably tight and he stopped.

There was a long silence. Bruce sat down next to Tim and put his arm around him. Tim stiffened in surprise, and then realized Bruce must be finally firing him.

“Bruce, it’s fine, I can go back to my house; you don’t need to say it. I know I can’t be Robin anymore. I’ve known since the Tower.” It was Bruce’s turn to stiffen and Tim felt faintly indignant that Bruce wouldn’t think Tim would know this was coming. “Hood clearly doesn’t have a problem with me as Tim, so I should be perfectly safe. Whatever issues he has are with Batman and Robin. I can get out of your hair right away. I understand.”

There was a brief, tense silence and Bruce said, “I’m not firing you, Tim. You haven’t gone out on patrol because you’re  _ injured _ , not because you’re fired. You can’t go home, because your house doesn't have the same protections as the Manor. Just because Hood let you go without a fight tonight doesn’t mean you’ll be safe.” He tightened his arm around Tim. “We’re going to keep you safe. We want you here.”

Tim wished Bruce would just fire him already. He’s plenty healed up and he can take care of himself just fine. The thought of pretending further feels unbearable. But Bruce has let him be Robin, given him training, let him stay over when he needed it, and given him a chance to do so much good that he’ll continue with this charade if that’s what Bruce needs. He was always willing to do what Bruce needed; that was why he became Robin in the first place.

So he agreed, let Bruce help him upstairs, and he ate Alfred’s delicious post-patrol food. Dick showed up, frantic, midway through the meal. The panic button triggered an alert for him as well and, even though Bruce updated him, he was kicking himself for picking this night to go back to Bludhaven. 

From the expression on Bruce’s face, he’d already realized Tim deliberately waited for Dick to be gone. Dick will probably realize it when he’s done checking Tim for additional injuries and scolding him.

When Tim is finally alone he has trouble sleeping. Only tonight, he’s not worried about nightmares. He’s picturing the concern in vivid, teal eyes and feeling a gentle hand comforting him.

Three weeks later, Tim sneaks out of the middle of the night and goes back to his house. He’s nearly entirely healed and he’s ready to be done pretending. Both Bruce and Dick insist he’s not fired, he just can’t go back out until Hood is contained. 

Tim thinks that’s ridiculous. First of all, Hood is a hero to Crime Alley. He’s made it so much safer for everyone living there. Secondly, Tim is back in school and Hood knows their identities. Hood has had plenty of time to get to him and he hasn’t. Finally, Hood hasn’t gone after Batman or Nightwing or anyone else. Just Robin. And if keeping the people of Crime Alley safe means Robin never goes back out, Tim doesn’t think that’s a big deal. 

He was only Robin to help Batman stabilize, and, now that Dick and Bruce are friendly again, he doesn’t need to be Robin to help. His part is  _ done _ , only he can’t seem to get anyone to realize it. So Tim leaves a note and goes home to his empty, cold house. He heats up a can of soup and goes to bed. 

When he wakes up an hour later to Red Hood inside his room, he realizes he may have made a mistake. Hood gently closes the window and turns around to see Tim staring at him.

“Shit, I mean shoot, hang on, just let me _ — _ ” And it’s the mechanized voice of his nightmares, but Hood looks so caught off-guard, and sounds almost frantic, that Tim can’t quite work up to his panic. He’d get there, but Hood is taking off his helmet and setting it down next to the window.

Then he taps his domino to lower the lenses and hurriedly says, “I’m not here to hurt you, Tim. Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you again.” He sounds so earnest that Tim finds himself believing it. It’s always been harder to believe that Hood actually hurt him; it always felt unreal. So Hood promising he’s done hurting him? Tim already mostly believed it before Hood said it.

“I know, Hood.” Tim stops. What else is there to say? What is Hood doing here? If he’s not here to hurt Tim, why did he show up just a few hours after Tim left the safety of the Manor?

Hood seems to feel the awkwardness and shifts nervously. “Kid, I just wanted to apologize. I wanted you to know I’d never _ — _ ” He pauses. “You didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, and I’m sorry.” 

And Tim? Tim already forgave Hood. Once he was sure it was never about him, but about Robin, Tim didn’t hold that against Hood. He sits up in bed and says, “Thank you, Hood. It’s fine.” He sounds oddly formal but he can’t seem to relax. “And you don’t have to worry, Robin won’t be flying again. It won’t happen again.”

At this, Hood looks stricken and Tim is puzzled. Surely he  _ wanted  _ Robin gone? Oh, but maybe he thought Tim was permanently injured. Tim says in a rush, “No, it wasn’t you, I mean, it kind of was, but I’m fine, physically, it’s just Bruce fired me, which was definitely going to happen eventually, it’s fine.”

“It’s  _ not _ fine!” And Hood’s warm voice is now angry. “He fired you because you were  _ attacked _ ? That’s bullsh - that’s ridiculous, Tim.” Tim thinks it’s sweet that Hood is still trying to censor himself. He’d noticed the Hood-in-the-Tower hadn’t done that, but his Hood always does his best. “You’re a great Robin; Dick and Bruce wouldn’t let you out otherwise, and I’ve seen some footage and talked to people in the city. It has to be about me, look, I’ll write Bruce a letter.” Tim’s mind snags on the idea of Robin getting a letter of reference from Red Hood. “Or set up a meet or something. I’ll let him know the attack was an aberration and you’re safe. I’ll figure this out.” Hood sounds so determined Tim can’t help but react.

“No, Hood, it’s not _ — _ ” Tim flails a little bit. “Look, Hood, me being Robin was never meant to be long-term.”

Hood is pacing around the room, a little wildly. “That’s nonsense, Tim, we can’t let Bruce  _ fire _ you, he always thinks he knows best, but he fired you  _ and _ kicked you out of the Manor? There’s no way he believes you’re safe from me. Why would he do that?”

Are Hood’s eyes glowing? Tim thinks they are, and he leans forward to get a better look, saying, “No, he didn’t kick me out, not yet, but I’m not going to stay where I’m not wanted.”

Hood looks at him, his eyes definitely glowing, and hisses, “Is no one ever good enough for him?”

Tim is almost too transfixed by the glow to be taken aback by the venom in Hood’s voice. They still don’t know Hood’s backstory, but Tim is getting more and more curious. A lot of things just don’t make sense.

But first. “It's not  _ like  _ that,” Tim bursts out, because Bruce has his flaws, they all do, but he does so much good for the city, he saves so many people. He's not what Hood is making him sound like. “You don't even know him,” Tim says, wondering if that's true. “He has been so kind to me, he hasn't even managed to properly fire me yet, so he's not  _ like that _ .” 

The light in Hood's eyes abruptly fades out and he says, “So... he didn't fire you?”

“Not officially, not yet. I just got tired of waiting.” There was a pause, and then Hood scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Kid,  _ why _ do you think you're getting fired?”

Tim flinches. He doesn't want to lay out to Hood how he's unfit as Robin. “Hey Hood, did you know your eyes glow? Are you a meta?” He’s found distraction works really well. Most people don’t really care enough to push when Tim sidesteps. 

“Yeah, it’s a side effect, and no, I'm not a meta. Tim,  _ why do you think you're fired? _ ”

“A side effect of what? I think it's kind of a big deal if your eyes are glowing, Hood. It doesn’t seem healthy.” Tim refuses to back off, but Hood is just as stubborn.

“Listen, we can do sharing  _ after _ you tell me why you think you're going to be fired. When Bruce fired Dick, he didn't hesitate.”

How does Hood know that? Tim's mental file on Hood is rapidly expanding. “Yeah, but Dick was older and wasn't injured.”

Hood sighs, then sits on the bed. “Tim. Look at me.” Tim scowls over at him. “He's not firing you.” Tim knows this tone, even with the helmet off. This is the ‘you idiot, stop caring about me, you idiot, I can't believe you thought Emma was better than Pride and Prejudice’ tone. Tim looks down at the bedspread.

“Hood, I'm just not very good as Robin. You saw that in the _ — _ the Tower, you know?” He pushes past the memory. “Robin has to be better than that and I'm just... not.” Tim recalls how amazing Jason was as Robin, how perfect, and he just knows he'll never compare. “Robin is bright and amazing and _ — _ ” he wavers, but the need to convince Hood overrides his reluctance. “I’m never going to be that good. I’ve seen what an amazing Robin is, and  _ it’s not me _ . I don’t need to wait for Bruce to work up the nerve to fire me. I know when I'm not wanted.” 

The truth is, Tim has never _ been _ wanted. That's how he knows he's not wanted, because no one wants him unless he can help and now not only is his job of stabilizing Bruce is over but he's proven he's useless. There's no reason to want him. 

“Tim, if you're comparing yourself to Dick, just don't. No one can live up to Dick in Bruce's mind. You're an amazing Robin in your own right. Robin brings light to the city, light to Batman’s darkness.” Hood drags him out of the covers to tuck him up against him and wrap an arm around him. “You do it in your own way, but that doesn’t make Dick’s way  _ better _ .” 

Tim is quiet for a moment. Then he says, softly “I'm not comparing myself to Dick. I never really saw Dick as Robin. But.” Tim pauses here. No one at the Manor  _ ever _ talks about Jason, but he can tell when they're thinking about him. Alfred will pull out a recipe and a sad expression will cross his face. Bruce will turn to Tim, his body language will shift, and Tim knows he was expecting to see Jason, his son. Tim rests against Hood for a moment, thinking. Does he really need to explain this all to Hood? Does Hood care?

He realizes he  _ wants _ to talk about Jason. Even though he never really knew Jason, he still misses him. And Hood seems to want to know; he’s still waiting patiently for Tim to explain. So he shrugs off Hood’s arm and stands up. He kneels down, reaches under his bed, and drags out a small photo album.

“I'm not really sure how much you know, it's obvious you know our names and history. So you probably know there was another Robin, after Dick and before me.” Tim can feel that Hood has gone still, and when he looks up Hood’s expression is curiously blank. “His name was Jason Todd and I know I'll never be as good as he was.” Tim opens the album to his favorite picture. He caught Jason, laughing, jumping into Bruce's arms. Bruce’s face is hidden by the cowl, but the pure joy on Jason's face is plain to see. Tim loved looking at it, especially when he was lonely. 

In a strangled voice, Hood asks, “Where did you get that photo?” 

Tim traces his finger over Jason’s face. “I took it. I used to go out at night and follow Batman and Robin. I learned all their patrol routes. Robin even saved me once, when I was careless.” He looks back up at Hood. “So you see, I  _ know _ what a great Robin looks like. I watched him for years. I could never be that great. I was only Robin because Batman needed someone.” 

Hood is looking a little sick, but Tim needs him to understand. “Bruce didn't do well when Jason died, and he, well, he needed a Robin.”

“But Dick was here to help out,” Hood interjects.

Tim shakes his head. “No, he was in Bludhaven, but I went to him and he refused to come back. He didn’t see the problem, no one else seemed to see it, and well, I knew Batman was Bruce.”

“You knew?” Hood sounds surprised, even though he also figured it out.

Tim sighs, impatient. “When only one person in the world can do a quadruple somersault, it’s not hard to figure it all out.”

“Oh.” Hood is quiet again, watching him, waiting. Tim feels like he has all the time in the world. Hood will just be there for him, waiting.

He hopes that if he finishes the story Hood will finally understand that Tim just isn’t meant to be Robin, that he isn’t a good Robin. He’s not sure why it’s important for Hood to understand, but doesn’t want to look at his rising desperation, so he continues. “When Dick refused to help, I just kind of forced my way into being Robin. I kind of threatened to expose his secret if he didn't let help.” 

Hood lets out a snort. “I bet he loved that.”

Tim winced. “At first, Bruce tried to keep me in the Cave, but Two-Face captured both him and Dick, and I had to go out. And then I couldn’t let him keep me back in the Cave, knowing I was capable enough, and he did so much better, Hood.” Tim is turning pages in the book as he talks, trying to keep his hands from shaking as tells his story. “Eventually, he and Dick reconciled. And then I knew it was only a matter of time before they realized I would never be as good as Jason. He was truly a hero.” Tim knows he sounds a little starstruck, but he’s always been that way with Jason. “He was so good with the kids, Hood, and he made Batman  _ laugh _ . He cared about keeping everyone safe, and he was so angry when someone was hurt. He insisted on justice.” Tim pauses. “Can’t you see, I wasn’t really  _ Robin _ , I was just someone to help Batman from spiraling. And what happened at the Tower...”

“Timbit, Bruce doesn't think you're a failure because you couldn't stop an older, stronger, better trained enemy.” There's a dark undercurrent in his tone making it clear Bruce better not think that, ever. Tim is silently mouthing  _ Timbit _ when Hood leans down, takes the album from him, and starts flipping through it. Tim sits on the bed next him and Hood nudges him. “You know Bruce has lost before, right? He’s not perfect.”

Tim sighs, and bites out, “He doesn’t trust me, Hood. I can’t be Robin anymore, I’m not needed, and I was just a subpar replacement.” Hood stiffens and Tim hears  _ Oh, Replacement, crying already? _

_ “You don’t fucking qualify, Replacement. _

_ I’m here to clip your damn wings. _

_ Begging already, Replacement? _

_ You know, Replacement, he’s not coming. _

“Tim? Tim, can you hear me?  _ Tim _ !” Hood is suddenly kneeling in front of Tim, and Tim realizes he’s almost hyperventilating. He’s trembling, he feels sick, and he deliberately keeps his gaze away from the windowsill and the gleaming helmet.

Hood is saying something about never hurting him again, but Tim numbly says, “Even you knew I was a replacement.” Hood goes uncannily still and his eyes flicker with an emotion Tim can’t place. “That’s why you came after me. You knew I replaced Jason, and you knew I wasn’t good enough. Who was Jason to you? How do you know who we are?”

Hood looks away for a moment, then turns back with an empty smile, saying, “I bet Batman and Nightwing are going to be coming through your window any minute, and it's best if I'm not here.”

There’s a sinking, painful sensation in Tim’s stomach. He pushed too hard and now Hood is leaving him, like everyone else. A logical part of him recognizes that Hood answering him means exposing his secret identity. But Tim isn’t running on logic anymore. He’s heartsick at losing Robin, the chance to be useful, at losing Bruce and Dick, and losing the tentative sense of home he’d tried hard to deny at the Manor. He’s still trembling from flashing back to the Tower, when he thought a friend was going to kill him. He can feel the fear and betrayal like it just happened. 

He wishes Joker had never killed Jason. He wishes he had never had become Robin, had never met Hood, had never been betrayed. He didn’t think losing it all would hurt  _ this  _ much.

Tim feels his throat tighten, his eyes burn suspiciously, and he turns away from Hood.

There’s no way for Hood to miss the trembling and he says, “Hey, Timbit, no, I’m sorry.” He rises up on his knees and enfolds Tim in a hug. The comfort is like a balm on his raw soul. His touch starved body leans forward against his will and clings to Hood, and he starts to cry. He barely notices when Hood stands and scoops Tim up with him. He turns into Hood’s armoured chest, desperate for comfort. 

He knows Hood is murmuring at him, hears, “It’s ok, Tim, I’m right here,” but he can’t stop crying. Hood says, clearly an aside, “Great work, Hood, trying to leave a traumatized kid right after a flashback,” and keeps rubbing Tim’s back.

Tim knows he messed up, knows asking about secret identities and back stories is something you just don’t do, and he sobs out, “Please don’t go, Hood, I won’t ask again, just don’t go.” Hood settles back on the bed with him, but doesn’t stop rubbing his back and making soothing sounds.

“Shh, Tim, it’s ok, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Just once, Tim would like to be enough. Tim is looking ahead into an empty future. No Robin, no friends, nothing.

He would like to  _ matter _ to someone. He knows he’s not Bruce’s son or Dick’s brother. He thought he was friends with Hood. He theorized, though, the only reason Hood had chatted with him was because he needed a civilian outlet and Tim was easy, convenient, trusting. But now Hood knows everything about him and Tim knows nothing. Hood nearly killed him, and Tim doesn’t get to know why.

Suddenly, Tim just needs to  _ know _ , needs to know he’s worth telling. No one has ever just  _ told  _ him anything, he always had to figure it out. He just told Hood it didn’t matter, but he was wrong and he pleads, “Please tell me, I need to understand, don’t go, just tell me, I just want to know why my friend attacked me.” He’s crying harder and harder and he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.

Hood wraps his arms around him protectively, holding him close, but his voice sounds so cracked when he says, “You don’t know what you’re asking, kid.” Tim hears his own pain mirrored in Hood’s voice, and can't ask again.

He cries for what feels like hours, but Hood stays through it all, rubbing his back and soothing him. When he finally tapers off, he’s curled up in Hood’s lap, Hood cradling him. And it feels good to be so soothed, to feel safe. He hopes Bruce and Dick stay away, he wants to stay in this cocoon of safety for as long as he can, save it up to give him strength when he’s all alone again.

He thinks he might be falling asleep when Hood says, “Do you know who Ra’s Al Ghul is?” 

Tim blinks a moment and yawns, “Head of the League of Assassins. Immortal. Bruce won’t let me access the entire file.” He shifts his weight to snuggle deeper into Hood’s lap. Can’t he just rest for once? Hood shifts minutely above him.

“I had a plan, Tim, but it’s not going to happen now, and I think I owe you the truth. You deserve it, after everything.” 

The cocoon is warmth and safety, everything he’s wanted and never had, but this is more important. He rolls out of Hood’s lap, sits up, and looks at him. Grief and pain and unnameable emotions are etched so deeply in his face that Tim just wants to help him. 

Hood doesn’t have to tell him anything, the attack in the tower was clearly an aberration, everyone has off days. He doesn’t want Hood to hurt like this. He’s still feeling warm and safe, and he remembers all the nights they spent walking and talking and laughing. The nights checking Hood’s wounds, Hood’s frankly alarming interest in his English classes, the night Hood held him while he cried for the first time and offered to kill someone for him. He hopes crying on Hood isn’t going to become a habit.

Hood says, “When I realized you were Robin, I knew I should have looked at your picture more closely, and none of this would have happened.” His voice is full of regret. “I couldn’t stand to look at the person who replaced _ — _ I would get too angry.” There’s a silence and Tim puts a hand on his knee. “I think if I - I think I have to just  _ show _ you, and you’ll put it together.” Tim is baffled for a moment, and then Hood is  _ taking off his domino. _

Tim reaches out to stop him, but it’s too late and he sees the rest of the face he now realises is vaguely familiar. He can’t quite place it, and then Hood tips his head to the side and Tim sees Jason Todd, in the photos Alfred tucked away in places Bruce won’t find, in the photo in a drawer he opened by mistake in the batcave, in the photo Tim has in the album laying forgotten next to the bed. But Jason Todd is dead.

Tim says, “Your eyes,” because Jason had blue eyes, but this Jason has teal eyes, more green than blue. Green, and back from the dead, and Ra’s Al Ghul. Tim thinks  _ Lazarus Pit _ , and remembers reading about the Lazarus Pit, and how being immersed in it drove a person insane. Insane, like mood swings and attacking children in Towers, because _ — _ because they were in his place. Because they were a  _ Replacement _ .

Tim whispers, “Robin,” looking into the face of his hero, the boy he replaced, the man who attacked him and hurt him, because Tim was  _ in his place _ . Tim knew he wasn’t worthy of being Robin, and this is further proof. He feels a small part of him die, the part of him that was wishing and hoping Dick and Bruce were going to show up and bring him back to the Manor and keep trying to make him stay with them. But Jason is back, and Jason thought he’d been replaced, and the Pit was whispering in his head all along. 

Tim thinks back; Red Hood was so brutal when he first arrived.. But he sees the change in his pattern now. Slowly, less brutality and more care-taking. An decrease in dismembering and torture and more efficient kills necessary to keep order.

Jason is looking at him, he still has his hand on Jason’s knee, and he drops it down and says, “Jason Todd. Lazarus Pit.” And Jason looks so relieved, Tim can almost smile. “Jason, it’s not your fault. The Pit, we know it drives people crazy. Bruce never gave me access to full file.” And now he never will, but at the mention of Bruce, Jason’s eyes start to  _ glow _ and Tim is transfixed. “Your eyes are glowing again.”

Jason closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and Tim waits for him, like Jason has waited for him. Jason opens his eyes, but they’re still glowing and he says, “Bruce should  _ never _ have made you Robin.” 

Tim flinches back, shocked and hurt, but Jason is still going, “I  _ died _ in those fucking colors, and he left the Joker alive, and put another kid in harm’s way!” Tim suddenly realizes who broke into Arkham and shot the Joker in the head three weeks ago. Bruce had been concerned, but he was focused on finding Red Hood. It’s not like Joker was a big loss, or Arkham is really that secure, or that Joker lacked enemies.

Tim reaches back out to Jason, touches his knee again, and says, “You killed the Joker.” 

Jason deflates, the green glow vanishing like it was never there, and says, “It needed to be done, kid, it  _ needed _ to be done. And I’ll never let anyone tell me there was another way, because there wasn’t.” He sounds desperate and pained, but there’s no doubt in his tone.

Tim knows killing is wrong, but he knows that letting the Joker escape over and over to hurt and kill and torment more people is worse. He knows a perfect world would be different, but they’re not in a perfect world, they’re in a world where Joker literally killed Jason, so he says, “I know, Jason. I know. You did the right thing. You kept us safe.” Because Jason didn’t do it just for himself, he did it for Tim, for Robin, for every innocent that gets caught up in Joker’s games. Tim has seen how protective Jason was as Robin, as Red Hood, and this is no different.

A shocked look flashes across Jason’s face, and Tim knows he expected judgement, condemnation, maybe a lecture. Tim isn’t Bruce, so although he agrees that vigilantes who kill undermine public trust, he can admit that it’s better for the city if it happens somehow.

“Tim, I _ — _ ” Jason sounds choked up. “It needed to be done, Tim, I could hear his laughter and he was going to get out and come for you or me or _ — _ ” Tim leans forward and hugs Jason, trying to comfort him the way he’d comforted Tim. Jason tenses for a moment, and then melts into the hug. He’s shaking, so Tim follows Jason’s example again and starts to rub his back and say soothing things. Jason mumbles, “Once he was gone, it was like a fog cleared. I didn’t realize how much the pit had gotten to me through him, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, Tim, I didn’t know.” Tim just hushes him, because he knows Jason-as-Hood and he knew Jason-as-Robin and being literally insane is the only way any of this happened, and  _ none _ of it was Jason’s fault.

“I know, Jason,” Tim whispers. “It’s ok, it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t you, it’s ok, I know it wasn’t you.” Jason’s arms clamp down around Tim, and he shakes and shakes. It’s almost painful, but it feels so good to be so close to Jason. He waits, patiently, while Jason trembles and shakes and almost-cries. Tim wonders the last time Jason was able to break down like this, and resolves to be here as long as Jason needs him.

Eventually, Jason clears his throat and shifts awkwardly in Tim’s arms. He remembers nights spent pressed up against Hood eating street food, curled into Hood’s warmth while he ranted about the poor quality of Tim’s English curriculum, half asleep until Hood pulled him up and sent him home on the bus. Thinking of the comfort they felt together, Tim tugs Jason down on the bed with him and says, “You must be tired.” Worn from carrying his secret, carrying his rage, his guilt, his pain. “You need to rest, Jason, you’ve been carrying so much.”

Jason resists for a moment, then lays down next Tim. He immediately sits up and strips off his jacket and then lays back down. Tim nudges him and says, “I didn’t really think you slept with your guns holstered. I don’t think that’s good gun safety.” Jason-as-Hood has given him many lectures about gun safety, despite Tim explaining he’s never going to use a gun. Jason sits up with a grumble, glares at him, and pointedly places the guns in reach on the nightstand. Tim thinks that’s reasonable; he’d probably want to sleep with a weapon if he’d been murdered, and had his brain taken over by a Lazarus Pit. 

They can talk later about how to tell Bruce that Jason is alive, and the Red Hood, and a killer. Tim’s mind is flickering through all the possibilities. He’s built his entire life out of helping people, helping the Bats, helping the Waynes, and this is just one more way to be useful. Tim notes that Bruce is going to need extensive proof and to run a lot of tests. Dick might be almost as paranoid, so he’s a little surprised to find himself not doubting at all. Jason’s pain is too real to be faked, and the whole story is crazy enough to fit right into Gotham. Jason is going to be great as Robin again, as soon as Bruce believes.

Just as he’s thinking about telling Alfred first, he surprises himself by yawning. Jason reaches out an arm and says, “C’mere, Tim, I woke you up and you’re still healing, come and sleep.” His other arm can still reach his guns, and Tim notes again that Jason is  _ always _ a protector. He rolls over and curls up next to Jason. He tells himself that this is helping Jason, giving him the human contact he needs to shake off the Pit and start to remember who he is without that influence.

He tells himself it’s for Jason when he mumbles, “You’ll be here when I wake up, right?” He’s doing this for Jason, and his own comfort is just a bonus.

Somehow, Jason manages to ruffle his hair and say, “I’m not going anywhere.” Tim tries to pull his head away, but it’s been a losing battle since the first time Hood ruffled his hair. He grumbles, wedges himself firmly into Jason’s side, and finally falls asleep.

Of course when he wakes up being shoved behind Jason, and sees Jason pointing a gun at Nightwing and Batman, he thinks could have thought the plan through a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we can all imagine how it goes next.


End file.
